Jane Bonander (20 page)

“Try me, McCloud. Help me understand,” she pleaded, close to tears. “I want to have faith in you, can’t you see that? But how can I if you won’t talk to me?”

He walked to the door, then stopped, knowing he had to say something, even if it hurt her. “If I tell you what I’m doing and why, you’ll think I’m crazy.”

A sprout of hope blossomed in Julia’s chest. “Better that I think you’re crazy than to think you’re doing something deceitful behind my back.”

McCloud expelled a shuddering sigh. “I don’t have proof.”

“Proof of what?”

“That someone is diverting the river water to their own land. That’s why the level is so low.”

She frowned. “Diverting the water? How?”

“I’m not sure yet. But I intend to find out.”

She pressed her hands together and brought them to her lips. “How were you going to do this?”

“I had a hunch that if I offered each of the surrounding ranchers a piece of land that
was
on the river, I could discover who it was. I had no intentions of selling it, Julia. It was bait.”

Julia digested his words. “Why didn’t you come and tell me what you were going to do?”

“I didn’t want to worry you.” His gaze rested on her.

She swung away. “Don’t treat me this way, McCloud. I’m perfectly capable of helping you make decisions about
our
land. I’d gladly have helped you trap the scofflaw.”

“Even if it were Serge Henley?”

Surprised, she turned and stared at him. “Serge? Why, that’s ridiculous. Whatever makes you think it’s Serge?”

McCloud crossed to the window. “This is why I didn’t say anything, Julia. I wanted to be certain of my facts before I mentioned it at all.”

“But … but
Serge?
I’ve known him for years and years, McCloud. He couldn’t—” She saw him tense and understood what she was doing. All right. Let him suspect Serge. Let him suspect Meredith, for that matter. When the truth came out, he would be wrong. Until then, there was nothing she could do to convince him.

“What are you going to do now?”

He turned and came toward her, stopping in front of her, so close that she felt his body heat. It affected her the usual way, causing her knees to go weak and her heart to beat a frantic cadence in her chest. She wondered how something that felt so right could possibly be so very wrong.

“I’m not sure. But I’ll tell you this much. Jake Crawford was interested in buying the land, but he told me flat out that he wouldn’t consider it unless he talked with you first. That leads me to believe that he isn’t the one responsible. But he also told your friend Serge pretty damned fast, Julia, and Serge was on your door-step, heralding the news within hours of my conversation with Crawford.”

She toyed with the buttons on his shirt, then smoothed her hand over his chest. “To me, that only means that Serge was concerned.”

McCloud moved out of her reach, and her hand fell to her side. A wall was beginning to form between them, and until the situation with the land was settled, nothing could be done about it. He felt he was right, but she knew he was wrong.

“I know, Julia. I know.” He went to the door that led to the rest of the house. “That’s what makes this so damned hard to do.”

She watched him leave, hating to see the rift growing between them, but unable to see any way to avoid it.

She massaged her head, hoping to ward off another headache. She guessed if there was any consolation at all, it was that he hadn’t lied to her.

Wolf didn’t sleep. He didn’t even bother going to bed, for his conversation with Julia kept him awake. He’d hoped to have answers before she even heard what he was up to, but that had been a pipe dream. And he’d known what her reaction would be. In her heart, she thought he was wrong to suspect Serge Henley. But he knew he wasn’t wrong. He knew Henley was involved one way or another.

Julia considered his half brother her best friend. Wolf clenched his fist, slamming it against his palm. He’d have the Nancy-boy’s balls on a string before he’d let him hurt his wife. But once the truth was out, there would be no way to protect her from it.

And now he had to go back to Jake Crawford and eat crow. He needed an ally. If he explained to Crawford what he suspected, maybe he could elicit his help in catching the “scofflaw.” He smiled. What a word. Leave it to his cerebral wife to come up with it.

Before dawn he went outside and did his chores, then hooked Baptiste to the wagon and headed out to get the fruit ready for shipping.

It was early afternoon when he finally returned, the wagon filled with crates of dried fruit. He could have left for Martinez from the shed, but felt Julia deserved to know how long he’d be gone. As he rode into the yard, he noticed a buggy in front of the house.

Curious, he walked over and peered inside. A face, old, frail, and encased in a fur hood, stared back at him. Her eyes lit up, and she smiled. “You’re the breed,” she said without preamble. Her voice had the whisper of dried leaves and held just a hint of an accent.

Wolf felt a tightening excitement in his chest. “Who are you?”

Her mouth lifted into a half smile, creating fragile lines in her papery skin. “You know who I am.”

He knew. She was merely an older version of his mother, but her eyes were kinder. “Yes. I guess I do. Is Meredith in the house with Julia?”

“Does it worry you that she is?”

He raised an eyebrow.
“Should
it worry me?”

“Perhaps.” She gave him a canny smile, one which caused her parchmentlike skin to crease into the mink trim of her hood. Her eyes were a piercing black, flashing youth and intelligence despite the wrinkles time had forced upon her. “I saw you the day you came to see Meredith. I watched you from the window.”

“And you knew who I was?”

Her gaze didn’t waver. “From the moment you rode in.”

The curse, no doubt. Wolf glanced at the house. “How long have you been here?”

“Not long.” She reached out and grabbed his arm with surprising strength in spite of fingers that were twisted from years of toil and joints swollen with arthritis. “You’re the one I buried.”

He expelled a quiet, humorless laugh. “But I didn’t die. Disappointed?”

She leaned forward. “No, I’m glad.” There was a conspiratorial gleam in her eyes.

“Where is he?”

“So, she told you about the other one.” She grinned, wispy brackets appearing on either side of her mouth.

“Where is he?” he repeated, sensing that she had to know something.

She shook her head. “I do not know.”

He felt a crushing disappointment. It must have showed, because she grinned and shook a crooked finger at him.

“But I remember the name of the man who took him.”

Behind him, Wolf heard the door open.

“Mother!”

Wolf turned from the buggy as Meredith Henley
scurried down the steps. She swept past him and stepped into the seat beside her elderly mother. Meredith glared at him.

“Mother isn’t in her right mind most of the time.” Her voice had a hard, impersonal edge to it. “I wouldn’t put much stock in anything she says.”

The old woman’s eyes sparkled with life and a hint of amusement

Not in her right mind, my ass.
Wolf took her hand, shocked that it was merely skin and bone. His eyes held the question he didn’t dare ask.

As Meredith prepared to drive off, the old woman bent close to the window. The buggy pulled away just as the woman whispered a name, the word caught up in the sound of creaking wheels and gravel.

But Wolf heard it, just the same. His excitement mounted. Fletcher. She’d said, “Fletcher.”

He watched the buggy disappear, then turned toward the house. Julia stood at the window, dropping the curtain when she discovered he’d seen her.

There was a squeezing pain in the vicinity of his heart. He hadn’t been the same since the day he’d first seen Julia, and he hadn’t known why. Her inability to believe in him made it clear. He was beginning to care, and he wanted her trust. Hell, he’d
cared
from the beginning, otherwise he wouldn’t have let Amos force him into a marriage he’d known Julia didn’t want.

He’d never loved a woman. He wasn’t even sure what that meant. All he knew was that the last two weeks of his life had been more than he’d ever hoped to have. He should be satisfied he’d had that much, he told himself, but the thought of losing Julia dug at him like a dull knife. He couldn’t stand the idea of never hearing her sing to the baby, or never again watching her loving smile whenever she picked Marymae up and cuddled her close. She was an exemplary mother to a child who wasn’t even hers. He could only imagine the kind of mother she’d be to children of her own.

A knot of longing twisted inside him, for he realized that marriage to Julia was only part of the pleasure he’d thought would be denied him. For her to bear his children was the other half of the pleasurable picture, and he wanted it all. Damn it to hell, he wanted it all.

The things she’d unconsciously done for his life went without saying. She’d given his life meaning. Purpose. Value. To never know those things again made him ache. To never hear her joyous cries of ecstasy when they made love sent waves of longing through him.

Yeah, he should be satisfied he had memories of those things. He wasn’t. Before all hell had broken loose, she’d begun to care for him. Because of that, he would fight for her. He just didn’t have the ammunition. Yet.

She stepped outside, a shawl around her shoulders. He saw something in her eyes—pain, hurt, something—before she glanced away. What had Meredith told her?

“I have to take the fruit to Martinez.” They’d talked about making a trip out of it. She’d promised a picnic. He’d promised to make love to her under the trees. None of that would happen now. There would be no intimacy until this whole thing with the land and the river and her father’s death was settled. He wondered how she would handle the truth.

She pulled her shawl closer and stepped to the edge of the porch. “Will you be back?”

What rubbish had Meredith filled her head with, anyway? “Is that what you want, Julia? Do you want me to leave?”

She closed her eyes and pinched her lips together. “I didn’t say that.”

“Then why did you ask?” His jaw was tight.

Releasing a shaky breath, she shook her head. “I don’t know.”

He smiled, knowing it was filled with contempt. “Did you think I’d sell the fruit and not come back? Is that it?” He shouldn’t have been surprised. After a visit from Meredith Henley, it was a wonder Julia didn’t carve out his heart with a butcher knife and feed it to the animals. A fire raged in his gut.

“No. I don’t know.” She was contrite. “Not really. I…” She caught her lower lip between her teeth and studied the steps. Suddenly she went inside, returning with a basket. “Here,” she offered, handing it to him. “It should be enough to feed you the rest of the day.”

He let the basket dangle from his fingers. “I’ll be back in time for morning chores.”

Nodding briefly, she turned to go. “I’m having dinner with Meredith tonight. As long as you won’t be here, I might stay over until morning.”

That wasn’t good news. Another visit with Meredith Henley, and his wife could be lost to him forever. “Julia?”

She turned, her face filled with expectation. “Yes?”

“What did Meredith have to say?”

Her shoulders visibly slumped and she sighed. “She said you’d ask me that. That you’d want to know.”

“What in the hell does that mean?”

Her eyes were filled with confusion, or so he wanted to believe. He didn’t want to think it was disillusionment. “She said all of your energy is misguided and misdirected. And—” Julia ran her hand along the railing.

He nearly stopped breathing. “Yes?”

“Oh, McCloud,” she said on a rapid breath, “I’m trying to be fair. I’m trying to be rational about this, but—”

“That’s all I ask, Julia,” he interrupted, unwilling to hear the rest of her thought. “That’s all I ask.”

She went inside and closed the door firmly behind her. To Wolf it felt like she was shutting him out of her life.

Julia watched him leave, a permanent ache stamped on her heart. Expelling a shaky sigh, she turned from the window and went to the settee in front of the fire. She sat, her feet curled under her, and studied the flames.

Meredith’s words still rang in her ears.
Your man is trying to find answers where there aren’t any, Julia. He’s looking in the wrong places. Serge and I love you. We’d never do anything that would hurt you. We are your dearest friends in the world, Julia. We want you to be happy. How can you be happy with a man who goes off half-cocked, blaming your neighbors for something he might well have done himself?

Was that McCloud? Going off half-cocked, as Meredith suggested? It didn’t seem like him, but then, how well did she know him? She wanted to trust him. Perhaps he didn’t love her, but things had been so perfect between them. Until now. Closing her eyes, she rested her head on the sofa back. It was hard to be sensible when Meredith was in charge.

Rising from the settee, she went into the bedroom to prepare for her visit to Meredith’s. Julia had to delve deep into her wealth of pragmatism not to be swayed by Meredith’s reasoning, for Meredith had no ax to grind. Although she knew that Meredith had once wanted her to marry Serge, they both knew that would never happen. They’d been friends and neighbors for a long time. Never had there been cause for her not to trust Meredith’s judgment.

Weary, Julia regretted promising to join them for dinner. All she wanted to do was undress and curl up in front of the fire.
Snug in McCloud’s arms.

Shaking off visions of him, she went to change her clothes.

J
ulia hitched the geldings to the buggy and left for the Henleys while it was light. She’d packed a small valise with a few of her things and some changes for Marymae, knowing that they would stay the night. And McCloud had promised to be back before morning chores. Right now, she felt that was too soon. She wasn’t ready to face him.

Just thinking of him brought about changes in her body. Not just physical changes, though she’d loved what they’d had together. And not just emotional changes, even though every part of her was rife with emotion when she thought about him.

She also wanted to defend him. But as she’d listened to Meredith and Serge, who told her that Wolf had no idea what he was doing, she found her defenses—for him and for herself—wavering. Both Meredith and Serge had an answer for everything, and on an intellectual level, they made perfect sense. While her intuition told her McCloud was not the man the Henleys said he was, her intellect began to convince her otherwise.

When she was alone, as she was now, and had no one to influence her reasoning, she thought about McCloud’s explanation of what he was doing. She desperately wanted to trust him, but what he was thinking seemed too farfetched to her. Meredith made a convincing argument that McCloud was just out to take from her what he could, then leave.

Julia didn’t want to accept that, but a niggle of doubt remained, nevertheless. In her mind she strived to be fair, because in her heart she loved him. McCloud had plumbed deeply into her emotions, and once they were tapped, her pragmatism disappeared. But from experience, she knew that the follies of the heart should never win out over the pragmatism of the mind. She’d long ago learned that it wasn’t safe to trust those poignant, tender feelings.

Remembering how close they were to McCloud’s cabin, Julia flicked the reins over the geldings, anxious to see how much progress he’d made on the building. An odd feeling of dread seeped through her as she approached it, for something wasn’t right. She pulled the horses to a stop. In fact, something was dreadfully wrong.

Pressing her hand to her throat, she found her pulse thrumming heavily, “What happened?” she said aloud, her fingers moving to her mouth as she studied the burned-out shell.

The geldings jerked at the reins, and she pulled on them, making soothing sounds to gentle them. She left the buggy and walked to the rubble. With nervous fingers she reached out and touched the charred wood. It was dead and cold. The fire was old. Why hadn’t he told her?

There was no reason to keep it a secret from her, unless he’d—

She pushed the remainder of the idea away.

Anxious to get to the Henleys, she hurried to the buggy, hoping to remove all thoughts of McCloud from her mind. But she knew that wasn’t likely. Now and forever, whatever the outcome, McCloud would be in her head. And in her heart. Lord help her, but she was a stupid, stupid fool.

They were seated in Meredith’s opulent study, having an excellent cup of after-dinner coffee. Julia wished she could appreciate the exotic aroma, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

Meredith returned after settling her mother down for the night. “I’m sorry, dear. Mother gets so
quarrel-some when she hasn’t had her medication.” She uttered a hopeless sigh. “She’s gone ‘round the bend, I’m afraid.”

Julia gave her a polite smile, but said nothing. She rather enjoyed Rosa Columbo. And she didn’t believe for a minute the woman had lost her mind. She couldn’t understand why Meredith kept harping on it.

“You were saying something about your breed’s cabin.”

Julia automatically bristled at the aspersion. “His name is McCloud, Meredith. Wolf McCloud.”

Meredith raised her chin and pursed her lips. “Of course. It came out wrong, dear. I’m sorry. Anyway,” she added, settling herself into the seat beside Julia, “what’s this about his cabin?”

“I rode past it on my way here and discovered it had burned to the ground. It was nothing but rubble and ashes. And I don’t think it just happened, either, because everything was cold.”

Meredith poured a shot of brandy into her coffee and made a “tsking” sound with her tongue. “That’s a shame. A real shame.”

“I suppose it could have been lightning,” Julia suggested.

“But dear, you say it doesn’t look recent.”

Julia shook her head. “It isn’t. And we haven’t had a lightning storm since the night our barn was struck.”

Meredith glanced at Serge, who had just entered the room. “I suppose it’s conceivable that lightning could have struck his cabin, too.”

“Yes.” Julia gave her a slow nod. “But do you know how unlikely that is? And even so, why didn’t he tell me about it? Why keep it a secret?”

Meredith took a long sip of her coffee, put her cup on the table in front of her, and gave Julia a sympathetic look. “Why, indeed.”

She reached over and squeezed Julia’s hand with her fingers, then clasped it. Meredith’s hand was clammy. It gave Julia the shivers, but she didn’t remove her own.

“I know you’ve been hearing some awfully negative things about your new husband, Julia, and most of them coming from Serge and me. But these things must be said. And since Serge doesn’t want to hurt your feelings further, I guess it’s up to me.”

Julia tugged her hand out from under Meredith’s and briefly closed her eyes, dreading what Meredith would say. She didn’t have the energy to stop her.

“Isn’t it feasible,” Meredith began, “that he burned down the cabin himself? That the lightning striking the barn gave him the perfect opportunity to get rid of that awful shack he’d promised to live in?”

Julia’s heartache intensified. That was exactly what she’d stopped herself from thinking when she saw the rubble. “But why? Why would he do such a thing?”

“Julia, my dear,” Meredith said around an exaggerated sigh. “What an innocent you are in the ways of men.”

Julia felt a kernel of anger coil inside her. “What do you mean?”

“Must I spell it out for you?” She reached for Julia’s hand once more, but Julia put it in her lap. “I’m sorry if this is blunt, dear, but it’s possible that he deliberately set fire to his own cabin, knowing he could blame it on lightning, in order to stay in the house.” She paused, then added, “And in your bed.”

Julia felt color stain her cheeks. She kept her eyes down, fussing with the pleats of her skirt with nervous fingers.

“So,” Meredith said, her voice soft. “He
has
been in your bed.”

“Mother!” Serge was on his feet, his hands balled into fists. “Must you be so crass?”

She glared at her son. “If I’m crass, as you so eloquently put it, it’s only because I’m concerned about Julia. This … this
breed
has filled her head with all sorts of ridiculous nonsense. He’s a scoundrel. An opportunist. Why, that day he was here, he—”

“He came here? When?” Julia was alert, interested.

Meredith swept the question away with an impatient hand. “Weeks ago, dear. Weeks ago. Anyway—”

“But why?”

“That’s of no consequence. What’s more important is that he could have coerced Amos into putting him in the will. How do we know he didn’t take a gun to Amos’s head himself, just to get him out of the way, then come to you, offering to help after he killed him? Playing on your weakness and your grief? Breeds can be very deceptive and convincing when it comes to getting what they want.”

Julia found it difficult to catch her breath, and her heart threatened to splinter in her chest. Tears, stark and painful, blurred her vision as McCloud’s credibility was decimated right before her eyes.

She stood, amazed that her knees locked. “I can’t listen to any more of this.”

Meredith was at her side in an instant. “I’m so sorry, dear Julia, but these things had to be said.” She drew her into her arms and gave her a reassuring hug. “I don’t want you to think I’m trying to fill your head with all of this just because I’ve wanted you for a daughter-in-law for more years than I can remember.”

Julia needed to leave Meredith’s embrace, but had no strength to do so.

“I’ve dreamed of the empire we could have if we combined our lands,” Meredith crooned. “We would own the valley. We would
rule
the valley.” She drew back, studying Julia with a look of concern. “It’s not too late, dear.”

Julia tensed. “What do you mean?”

Meredith walked her to the door. “Just sleep on it, Julia. Remember
everything
I’ve said, and we’ll talk more in the morning. Now, go up to bed. There’s a mild sedative on the nightstand. I urge you to take it. It will help you sleep.”

Julia dragged herself up the stairs, anxious to be alone. She tried not to let Meredith’s words influence her. She wanted to be fair to McCloud, but what if what Meredith said
was
true? But if McCloud had killed her father, she thought, why would he say that Papa’s death was anything but an accident? Even suggesting that Papa had been killed could point the finger at him. Why bother, when the sheriff himself had ruled it accidental?

She reached the dark landing, trying to comprehend everything she’d learned. As she rounded the banister on the way to her room, something moved in the shadows. Startled, she clasped her hand to her breast.

“Oh, Grandmama Rosa.” Meredith’s mother stepped out in front of her, looking like a whispery apparition in her long, white nightgown. “You startled me.”

Rosa Columbo touched her arm. “Listen to your heart, girl.”

Had the old woman read her mind? Julia wondered. “That’s easier said than done, Grandmama.”

Rosa Columbo pulled Julia farther into the darkness, toward her room. “They’ll have you believe I’m crazy,” she murmured on a harsh whisper. “My daughter can be very convincing. Just trust your heart, girl. No one else.”

Then the old woman left her, disappearing into the gloomy depths of the upstairs like a wisp of smoke.

Confused, Julia stepped into her room, grateful a lamp was lit at the bedside. The flame flickered, sending macabre shadows over the walls and ceiling. Shivering, she rubbed her arms, feeling like the doomed heroine in some gloomy Gothic novel.

Trust your heart.
Advice she longed to embrace. With a sigh weighted in frustration, she crossed to the crib and glanced down at Marymae, whose thumb was firmly planted in her mouth. Julia smoothed the baby’s wispy golden hair off her temple and felt a brief tunneling of warmth in her stomach.

“Whatever happens, sweet girl,” she whispered, “I’ll always have you.”

She undressed, turned out the lamp and crawled into bed. Unwilling to take the sedative Meredith had offered, she found herself wide awake, her mind hurling images at her so fast, she could almost feel them. At the head of the pack was Meredith’s admission that McCloud had been to see her. What reason would he have to call on Meredith? She wondered why he hadn’t told her.

The window seat drew her. She rose and walked to it, curling up on the upholstered seat. Moonlight sifted in through the filmy curtains. She could see a flickering light inside the dark outline of the barn. Tensing, she drew closer to the window, pulling the curtains aside.

Cupping her hands on either side of her face, she peered into the night. Two horses were led from the barn; two riders mounted and walked the horses over the gravel, then kicked them into a gallop when they reached the grass.

Julia continued to study the darkness long after the riders were gone. She missed McCloud. She missed what they’d had together before all of this happened. She prayed McCloud would sort out what was happening and learn the truth so they could get on with their life together.

Wolf allowed Baptiste to pick his way over the uneven ground, trusting the black’s judgment in the darkness over his own. They traveled near the river, for he heard the faint gurgling of water over the rocks. Having arrived at the ranch and found Julia gone, as she said she would be, he discovered he couldn’t sleep. Knowing she was spending the evening with Meredith Henley had compounded his insomnia.

He needed to prove his point before Meredith succeeded in turning Julia against him for good. He’d taken a chance when he faced Crawford and admitted that the land was just bait for a trap. For all he knew, Crawford could have been as crooked as Henley. But after talking with him, Wolf knew he wasn’t. Thank God for his instincts.

It had been a lot to ask of Julia—to trust him though he could not tell her anything. She wasn’t a woman who trusted easily. He sensed that she’d had her trust tested before, and whoever tested it had broken it.

No doubt Meredith had further influenced Julia’s feelings, preying on her emotions, dredging up memories of her father. It was even likely that Meredith tried to blame him for everything, Wolf thought. It would be easy to do. Julia had said it herself. He was the stranger among them.

Baptiste stopped and tensed. Wolf became alert as well. He reached down and stroked the mount’s neck and listened. There were subtle sounds in the distance.

Wolf dismounted and tied the horse to the lowslung branch of an oak tree, then crept toward the noise.

Flattening himself behind a thicket of dense chaparral, he peered through the brush, squinting into the distance. He saw two men. There was only a half moon; he couldn’t see who they were. He heard them talking, but wasn’t close enough to hear what they said. But from the sounds brought to him on the night breeze, he knew what they were doing. A burst of excitement sent his blood racing.

Still on his stomach, he began to crawl, using the night and the dense brush as cover. Instinct took over, and he moved with the stealth of one born to it, sliding across rocks and prickly grass until he was within earshot.

Each man shoveled dirt from the trench, tossing it on the grass, spreading it to avoid a mound. So, Wolf thought, tensing. Amos had been right.

“How much farther do we have to dig this damned thing, and how many more do we have to start?”

Wolf recalled the voice, if not the name. He was one of Henley’s men. The one with the light hair and chipped front teeth who had approached him as he’d ridden up that day. He never forgot a voice.